


Hard Labour

by Kalypso



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-08
Updated: 2009-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalypso/pseuds/Kalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cygnus Alpha was rather a mess when Dev Tarrant arrived to complete his masterplan for Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Labour

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Freedom City Birthday Party of 2009. I don't think we had a theme that year, so I just went with the idea of labour, because the Freedom City Birthday is celebrated on the US festival of Labor Day.

Cygnus Alpha was rather a mess when Dev Tarrant arrived. Of course, Cygnus Alpha was always a mess, though reports suggested that a local strongman usually kept the mess under some sort of control. But when Tarrant's ship touched down, the locals were scurrying around like ants who'd been stirred by a stick.

He'd tried poking a stick into an ant hill on one of his earliest trips Outside, and the results were quite gratifying. In present circumstances, however, it complicated his plan to extract one particular ant. He'd assumed he could negotiate with the strongman, and had brought along several boxes of white trainers in case he needed a bribe. Savages living on a dirtball like Cygnus Alpha always liked new white trainers.

It was a bit of a risk, of course, coming to rescue Blake himself. But the truth was that there was virtually no one else he could trust. He might have asked Bartolomew, but apparently her husband was suspicious about the amount of time she'd spent away from home recently, and anyway she didn't know her way round the Outer Worlds like he did. 

And really, Blake was Tarrant's project. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to reactivate him. It was a pity that he'd had to sacrifice Foster and his group, but their woolly pacifism wasn't going anywhere, and they were bound to be caught sooner or later. There were always new groups of dissidents coming up, like weeds growing through the concrete outside a Dome; they all came to grief eventually, and he was pretty sure seeing the massacre was just the shock that Blake needed to break through his mental barriers. As an extra jog to the memory, he'd even walked into the trial and made sure Blake got a good look at him; he could see the man's brain cranking up like rusty machinery. Anger, revenge, they were what he needed to implant, in place of the bland acceptance smothering the firebrand personality.

Tarrant wouldn't have come up with the paedophile charges himself - nice idea, though, he wondered if he could try something like that on the President - but they would do well enough to get Blake off the planet. And he didn't need the rebel to be popular, just to be out there blowing things up, striking at the Federation from the outside while agents like Tarrant and Bartolomew pulled at the loose threads from within. Of course, he had to get rid of the lawyer; tying Blake up in legal appeals which at best could drag on for months, at worst would just be suppressed, that wouldn't do anyone any good at all. Once Blake was well away from Earth, it would be much easier to spring him from captivity and set him up with his own little guerrilla force.

So here he was on Cygnus Alpha, but he had no idea where to find Blake. He advanced cautiously, flanked by half a dozen armed guards, while hooded figures rushed through the mist. He signalled to his men to grab one, a pale, sandy-haired specimen when the hood was pulled off.

"Hullo," said Tarrant. "I want you to take me to your leader." 

The prisoner shook his head. Tarrant peered down at his grubby sandals.

"There's a pair of shoes in it."

The sandy specimen shook his head again. "Our leader has gone!" he cried. "He has ascended into the heavens. We await a sign from God!"

"Right," said Tarrant. "You haven't seen a tall man with dark curly hair - he might be trying to appoint himself your new leader?"

The description provoked a strange, wordless wail. Tarrant pulled in another prisoner, and to his surprise recognised the face - Asra Gorse, a free trader who'd been running guns to a revolt out on Rheged.

"Asra, what's going on here? Have you seen Roj Blake?"

She rolled her eyes. "Roj Blake? Rushed in here, demanded to take half the population with him, got into a fight with the boss, then they both disappeared. Left a lot of bodies."

"Wait a minute," said Tarrant. "Take half the population where? Was he trying to set up a separate colony?"

"Said he'd got a ship. That was what got Vargas excited; he'd never got a sniff of taking over any of the convict ships. Hey, why are these guards with you - usually they turn everyone loose and then scarper?"

"They're my men - I came here to get Blake."

"You've got a ship? You can get me off here?"

There was a horribly familiar sound behind them, and the ground began to tremble. Another guard ran up, blood soaking his torn sleeve.

"The prisoners, sir! A group of them overpowered us and took the ship!"

Tarrant stared wildly. "What do we do now?"

Asra grabbed his arm. "Only one thing for it. Come on, we've got to get to Vargas's headquarters." He limped after her across mud and rubble until they came to a crude stone building with a tower like a knife pointing out of its roof. Inside, Asra steered Tarrant to a dais, and then fell to her knees; at a look from her, his men followed suit. The ants paused in their scuttling.

"Sisters and brothers!" proclaimed Asra. "Our beloved leader Vargas has ascended to the heavens. But God has sent us a new leader! Tarrant will intercede for us with God. And I - " she rose to her feet again, lifting her arms, " - I will intercede for you with Tarrant." Whether it was her authority or the guns of the guards who hurriedly stood up and flanked them, the crowd acquiesced, and began to chant Tarrant's name as Asra led him into Vargas's private suite. He collapsed in a chair, groaning.

"Oh come on," she said, grinning. "It's not all bad. There are perks with this job - you should see how many white trainers Vargas had stashed in that cupboard."


End file.
